Ain't That a Kick in the Head?
by Chudney
Summary: It's just a metaphor. No one actually gets kicked, although they are sorta clumsy. Kind of a sappy, cheesy, goofy little story about.....um...shall we say, reconciliation? Well, you'll see.
1. Un:

  
  


**AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?**

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Part 1:**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* **cheri** (sheh-ree) **:** _adj._ **1.** Beloved. **2.** Darling; favorite. --_French._

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  


_It's nice to be back._

  
  


Arnold whistled a little tune to himself as he strolled down the sidewalk. _I'm glad to see the old neighborhood hasn't changed much,_ he thought. He was headed over to the Johanssen house to see Gerald and was still several blocks away. But it was such a beautiful day that he chose to walk slowly and casually, taking in all the familiar sights and sounds. _I can hardly believe how long it's been,_ he thought, nearing the corner at the end of the block. _Sure, college is great and all...but I guess I didn't realize how much I missed this place._

He smiled happily as he turned the corner. 

  
  


_It seems like only yesterday I was playing baseball with the guys, over there in Ge..._

  
  
  
  
  
  


***OOOOF!***

  
  
  
  
  
  


They were both knocked flat from the sudden crash. He sat up slowly, blinking his eyes and trying to clear his thoughts. "Urrghhhh..." he groaned; then he looked over to see what--or _who_ had been coming around the other side of the building at the exact same time and run smack into him

It was a girl, he realized...about his age, blonde, wearing pink and white. She might have been fairly pretty, he thought, if she hadn't been scowling, her face all twisted up into a pained frown. 

"Man!" the girl said as she rubbed her shoulder. "I feel like I've been hit by a truck!"

"I'm really sorry. Are you okay?" said Arnold as he stood and offered his hand to help her up. "I wasn't paying attention..."

"Oh, no, that's all right," she said quickly. She took his hand and got to her feet. "It wasn't entirely your fault--you couldn't have known I was there."

  
  


Arnold watched as she dusted herself off. There was something about her...

  
  


"...Anyway, I guess we both ought to watch where we're going, huh?" she continued. The girl looked up at him--and their eyes met. In that brief instant, something, almost a sense of...recognition?...passed between them.

  
  


"Hey!"

"Haven't we..."

"Aren't you..."

"Don't I..._know_ you from someplace?" they asked each other all at once.

  
  


There was a moment of uncomfortable silence--then the two of them laughed, slightly embarrassed.

"Sorry," said Arnold. "For a second there, you almost reminded me of someone." (_It can't be; what are the chances of that happening again_?)

The girl smiled a little. "As a matter of fact, I thought_ you_--seemed kind of familiar for a minute, too." (_Of course not_, she told herself. _You're imagining things_.)

"It...it's probably just all in our minds, though"

"Yeah, I suppose..." she agreed.

  
  


Arnold was beginning to feel a little awkward--after all, there are only so many things you can say to a complete stranger when you actually run into them--so he turned to go. "Well...I guess I'll...see you around," he said politely.

"Sure," said the girl, also heading away. "See ya, Football-head..."

  
  


She clapped a hand over her mouth, shocked at the words which had slipped out so naturally.

  
  


The two of them froze in their tracks as the sudden realization hit them like a lightning bolt. 

  
  


Well, it was pretty obvious to the rest of us, wasn't it?

  
  


They turned slowly toward each other, expressions of surprise, almost disbelief, on their faces. At exactly the same time, they said what they had probably known all along:

  
  


  
  


_"ARNOLD!!"_

_"HELGA?!"_

  
  
  
  


"What are you doing here?" Arnold asked.

"What am _I_ doing here? What are _you_ doing here?!" she retorted. "_You're_ the one who moved away, remember?" She put her hands on her hips and shrugged. "But since you asked...I'm away at college now, and I came back for some goofy class reunion tonight. Then I'm going to stay in town a few days."

"Same here. Gerald arranged for me to get an invitation to the reunion, so I could see some of the old gang again." He laughed. "Funny running into you like this, though. Kind of reminds me of when we were kids."

"Yeah. What a weird coincidence...," said Helga. She smirked. ".....Say, you've grown--you're a little taller than me now! I guess that means I can't call you a 'yellow-haired shrimp' anymore."

"Sure you can--my grandpa still calls me 'Short Man' half the time. ...But I'd rather you didn't."

"Hmph! I think I'll call you a 'yellow-haired shrimp' anyhow."

"Well, it's nice to know someone still cares," he said jokingly.

  
  


She hesitated, glancing away for a brief moment. When she spoke again, it was in an unexpectedly soft voice.

"You know, Arnold, it was never the same without you around," she said slowly. "There wasn't anyone to butt in with do-goody advice and annoying, optimistic ideas. That, and the other kids weren't as fun to shoot spitballs at." She smiled at him. "...It's good to see you." 

  
  


_Really?_ Arnold smiled back.

"You too." 

  
  


Even though she _had_ called him 'Football-head', she still seemed very different from the Helga he had grown up with.....almost as if...

  
  


"Well gee...I--I hate to go, but it's about time for me to...to...floss--my teeth!" Helga said suddenly, turning a bit red and checking her watch. "Yep...plaque's a killer--gotta go fight those cavities!.....Bye, Arnold," she shouted, running off.

"Um...sure. See you later," he called after her, slightly confused at her strange excuse. _(Who flosses at three in the afternoon? That's some dedication.) _

  
  
  
  


A peculiar, unidentifiable feeling crossed over him for a brief second. He brushed it aside, however, and walked on toward Gerald's--whistling a little slower this time.


	2. Deux:

Quick Author's Note: To everyone who read and reviewed--thank you so much! The whole story is written; it's just a matter of finding the time to paste it all up, and I have no idea how long that will take, so hang in there. I really appreciated your encouraging comments (not that you have to say nice things all the time, although positive reinforcement is much more fun than constructive criticism. ) and I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. 

Oh, and since I probably violated all kinds of copyright laws by forgetting to do this last time, heeeeere's my disclaimer:

No, I do not own Hey Arnold or any of the characters, episodes alluded to, or the title to an animation company. Yet. (I can dream, can't I?) Heck, I don't even own this computer. Don't sue me because I'm broke and unemployed and allergic to lawyers, etc. etc. You know the drill. I'd rather not have to repeat any of this later, so it applies to the whole story, okay? Anyway, here's part 2.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**~AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?~**

  
  
  
  


**Part 2:**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Stop rolling your eyes, Gerald. I'm serious...I ran into her--literally."

Arnold sat at the Johanssens' dining table, taking occasional sips of the coffee Gerald had offered him. He didn't really like coffee that much without sugar and cream and all that jazz, but it distracted him from overanalyzing matters that were probably meaningless. Gerald, his best friend since pre-school, sat across from him with a slightly exasperated look on his face. It really wasn't such a big deal--then again, Arnold tended to dwell on things like this longer than most people. So, he listened.

"...Exactly like when we were little. There I am--walking along, minding my own business. Then I turn the corner--and....."

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  


".....WHAM! Just like that! You'd think it was any normal old day back in fourth grade... It's like that saying, Pheebs.... Deja Vu all over again."

  
  


Phoebe put a hand on her friend's arm. "Goodness, Helga...how very unusual!......You aren't hurt, are you?" she asked, concernedly.

"Nah, I'm fine. But I must have landed on my head, or something, because I didn't even recognize him at first!" Helga fidgeted in her chair, not entirely sure why the whole episode upset her. "I mean--I thought he looked a _little_ familiar, maybe.....but it never even crossed my mind that of all people, this strangely polite guy I run into in the middle of downtown just _happens_ to be....."

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  


".....Arnold, my man--who cares?...So you saw Helga G. Pataki, the sadistic bully of P.S.118 and perpetual terror of our childhood. So _what_?"

"That's just it, Gerald...She didn't seem like such a bully this time--even after she realized who I was. ...Okay, she _did_ run off with some bizarre comment about flossing her teeth...but other than that, she actually seemed kind of happy to see me--even....."

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  


".....nice as ever." Helga sighed dejectedly, and buried her face in her hands. "Flossing! Of all the loony gibberish to come up with--and for no reason! It's disgusting, Phoebe. These stupid memories: the things I did, and said, and...wrote--_everything_ I've tried so long to forget--flooding back to me as if it never ended. Why _now_? Why not later tonight, when I could have avoided him and his rotten football-head completely?"

  
  


Phoebe listened closely, watching the steam rise in ghostly wisps from her cup of green tea. Helga was usually a very rational, sensible person...but--well, considering the past, it was easy to understand why even such a minor thing like this would disturb her to the point of rambling. Now that the rambling had stopped, she knew it was probably time to offer a little candid advice.

"...Honestly, I don't think he's changed a bit, " added the blonde girl.

  
  


"But _you_ have, Helga," said Phoebe encouragingly. "Both of you are mature, intelligent adults now, and there's no reason why the relationship between the two of you can't be completely different...if you truly want it to be."

She took a sip of her tea, and continued. "Besides, why _wouldn't_ you see him again? You'll both be at this reunion. You share mutual friends. It's likely you would have run into each other eventually--so why not think of this as a second chance? Perhaps if you're willing to give yourself the opportunity this time around...you can get to know each other a little better and actually forge a good friendship." 

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  


"Yeah, maybe you're right," said Arnold with a laugh. "Sorry I even brought it up."

"I'm _always_ right. Don't let it bug you, Arnold. You're a nice guy, but you can't help everybody--and _she_ never asked for your advice." He paused, thinking back. "Well, I'll admit she wasn't nearly as bad by the time we got to high school.....but still--some people are just like that, and they don't ever change. That's life."

"Oh well. I bet I won't even see her once tonight."

  
  


Gerald lowered his eyes as he suddenly found the wood grain of the table top quite interesting. "Er.....I'm not so sure about _that._"

"What do you mean?"

Gerald squirmed. "I talked to Phoebe earlier--we still keep in touch, y'know--and we agreed to meet at the front entrance.....just because we thought going in as a group might be a little less uncomfortable than by ourselves."

"And?"

"That means, a certain someone will probably be with her."

Arnold raised an eyebrow. "What's your point?"

"Well, you know how girls are.....they'll be all dressed up and trying to look real good so they can impress everybody with how attractive they are and how successful they're becoming. That stuff."

"Everybody does that. So?"

"Arnold--I _know_ you. Every time you see a pretty face, you go all...eech--_mushy_. And if Helga is the first one you see.....well, I don't know about her attitude, but the _rest_ of her ain't that ugly."

  
  


Arnold scoffed and leaned back in his chair, trying not to laugh at his best friend's apprehension. "Come _on_, Gerald! I'm not as hopeless as you seem to think!" He smiled again in that lopsided way of his. 

  
  


"What's the worst that could happen?"

  
  



	3. Trois:

  
  


**~AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?~**

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Part 3:**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


A light breeze blew around the side of the community center where Gerald and Arnold stood, sending dried leaves across the distant parking lot and ruffling the blond man's hair over his face. 

  
  


_I hope this won't be too awkward. I haven't seen most of these guys in nearly ten years,_ he thought, trying to slick it back. His hair was shorter than it used to be, but it still stuck out every which way no matter what he did. _It's a lost cause_ he told himself for the third time, giving up and shoving his hands in his pockets.

  
  


"Well, at least I still look good in a suit," Gerald said off-handedly, flicking a piece of lint from his sleeve. He checked his watch. "Almost six o' clock. They oughta be here soon."

  
  


Arnold caught the sound of heels _click-clicking_ against the concrete behind them. He glanced around just long enough to recognize the two figures headed their way, then motioned to Gerald. "Yep. Here they come now." They turned to face the approaching women.

"Hey there, lovely ladies!" Gerald called, adding that odd little 'purr' he used sometimes as a friendly compliment.

  
  


_Typical of him. Always the smooth-talker_, Arnold might have mused. 

  
  


Except for the fact that he wasn't listening.

  
  


"...don't you agree, Arnold?...Arnold?......Hey-Arnold!"

  
  


His attention had been drawn by something entirely different.

  
  


Gerald followed his friend's gaze, and immediately caught on. "I knew it. Every stinkin' time," he groaned dramatically, shaking his head. "Well--you're a big boy now; you can take care of yourself, I guess." He wandered away to speak with Phoebe.

  
  
  
  


He knew he was probably staring, but he couldn't seem to help it. Oh, he supposed he had noticed something earlier, in those first few minutes, but he hadn't really thought about it much then. Maybe it had to do with the fact that she wasn't sprawled on a dirty sidewalk anymore, mentally clobbering the doofus who had knocked her down. Time could do a lot more to a person than just make them older, and he'd never seen her quite like this. Perhaps that was it. Shock. But not a bad kind of shock.

  
  


"...Hi, Arnold. You clean up well..." she began casually. She stopped, puzzled. "...Um, Arnold? What are you staring at? Did I sprout another head or do you always greet people this way?"

  
  


Arnold blinked, slightly embarrassed and feeling uncharacteristically shallow. "Sorry. It's just..." he fumbled momentarily, unsure of what he would say next. "...I don't think I've ever seen you wear..._red_...before." 

"Oh, is that all?" Helga raised her eyebrow suspiciously. "What's your point?"

"I dunno. Nothing. I just thought you looked very--pretty.....Beautiful, actually."

  
  


She hadn't expected that. Surprise crossed her face, mixed with disbelief. (_Where did that come from? _she wondered.) He was obviously quite sincere about it, though. She smiled. "W--well, thanks!"

  
  


He couldn't remember having seen _that_ very often, either. She did have a nice smile--when it wasn't full of malicious intent, anyhow.

  
  


"Yeah, well..." He found himself scratching the back of his neck with one hand, as he often did when he was nervous. (_What on earth would I have to feel nervous about?_) Then he noticed that Gerald and Phoebe were walking ahead through the double doors. Enough stalling--they really ought not to stand out in the night air much longer.

"You want to go on in?"

"You want to be a gentleman and offer me your arm?" she answered.

Arnold grinned sheepishly, obeying, and she looped her arm through his. They pushed the doors aside, and he led her toward the main room of the community center.

  
  
  
  


_Maybe this evening won't be so bad after all._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


***********************************

A/N: Well, that may be it for a while. With the holidays and everything coming up, who knows when I'll be able to seize control of the computer again? Anyway, please keep reading and reviewing if you get the chance. It's nice to know somebody cares. :)

  
  
  
  



	4. Quatre:

  
  


**~AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?~**

  
  
  
  


**Part 4:**

  
  
  
  
  
  


Very few, she decided, had changed all that much since graduation.

She wasn't surprised to hear that Sid and Nadine were both involved in some kind of medical experiment to analyze frog saliva, nor that Eugene was studying the art of stage choreography (Maybe those dance classes were doing him some good--the punch bowl was still in one piece. Then again, the night wasn't over yet...) And naturally, there was your usual assortment of law students and hopeful doctors and businessmen and so forth.

None of them, however, herself included, were yet what people would call truly successful. Unless you counted Curly, who was beginning to make a name for himself in political circles and kept muttering things under his breath like "Once I'm dictator, they'll see. They'll ALL seeee....."

  
  


".....then, when they realized I was single-handedly responsible for the new designs that were such a big hit over at the main studio, they practically begged me to accept the internship. In fact, I received an offer from Vogue only last week, and already there's talk of....."

  
  


Blah, blah, blah.

  
  


Ah yes. Rhonda Wellington-Lloyd. The self-elected queen of fashion was still at it--which was just peachy with Helga, since Rhonda of all people seemed the most likely candidate for greatness in the near future. People like that knew precisely where there lives were headed and had what it took to become famous overnight. (That pile of money she owned couldn't hurt, either.) 

Some, Helga reminded herself, weren't so sure anymore. 

No worries though. She was still young...didn't she have the rest of her life to figure out what she wanted to be? 

  
  


_I wonder when the fun starts?_

  
  


One thing was certain. She didn't want to be in that group any longer; listening to certain persons drone on for the rest of the night.

  
  


_This is.....boring. Who was the genius who decided to throw a reunion after only five years?_

  
  


She glanced around. People weren't doing anything other than sitting and talking and swigging punch. Well... one or two appeared to be picking assorted nuts out of their teeth, but that wasn't exactly her idea of quality entertainment either. Since she hadn't been close friends with many of the kids, and she wasn't much of a socializer anyway, she had soon run out of things worth saying and old acquaintances to say them to. Maybe it would be better at their next reunion, when they had actually done things--outside of college and start-up jobs. 

But for now.....Helga stifled a yawn. She scanned the room unenthusiastically._ I should have brought a book, _she thought.

  
  


Her eyes fell on a mane of bushy blond hair across the room, and she smiled in spite of herself. The person belonging to the hair laughed at some inaudible joke, and turned slightly, just enough for Helga to see the woman he was talking to.

A twinge of resentment shot through her. She frowned.

From somewhere in the back of her mind came the sing-songy little voice of a heartsick nine-year-old.

  
  


_LI-La....._

  
  


Some things never change.

  
  


Phoebe, who was sitting beside her, noticed the expression. "Is something wrong, Helga? You look slightly perturbed."

"No, Pheebs...everything's fine." 

  
  


_Shut up,_ she told the voice. _What do you care?_

_(Doi! It's Little Miss Oh-So Perfect.....And you're jealous!)_

_Am not!--I haven't any reason to be. It isn't as if there were...feelings...between the two of you._

_(Well, aren't you going to do something about it?)_

_No. That would be senseless and immature and stupid of me. It's been years since then. He can talk to whomever he wants. _

_(You big pansy!)_

  
  


The nine-year-old stamped her foot, and stormed away in a huff. Helga sighed quietly. Another pathetic battle with another pathetic memory.

  
  


_Besides.....you stopped loving him a long time ago._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*********************************

A/N: Okay, okay, I lied before. THIS is the last update for who knows how long. Anyway, Happy Holidays to everyone. Have fun, be careful, and don't eat so much you spontaneously combust. And keep working on those fanfics, you slackers!

Oh, and for anyone who might be curious..... No, the title doesn't make any sense, does it? And Yes, it WILL make sense eventually, but not for a long time (somewhere around the 12th chapter, I think) so you'll just have to wait. :)


	5. Cinq:

A/N: Sorry for the long hiatus...we've had all kinds of screwy computer problems and so--no Internet for me. I tried explaining to the computer in a calm and diplomatic way that I was greatly displeased with it, and would put my foot through the monitor if some compromise could not be reached. Unfortunately, the computer was too selfish to see my point of view. Very frustrating; arrrrrggh! Ah well, here's a bit more of the story.

*********************************

  
  
  
  


**~AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?~**

  
  
  
  


**Part 5:**

  
  
  
  
  
  


He stood, hands in his pockets again, talking to her. It wasn't as painfully awkward as he had expected. Of course, it helped that he was no longer in 'love' with her.

For that matter, he wondered why had he _ever_ been in love with her? Oh, she was as smart, and sweet, and pretty as she had always been. She had also stopped punctuating each sentence with an 'ever-so-much', which was refreshing...although one slipped out from time to time in their conversation, and sent a slight grating feeling through his head. Funny...as a kid he used to think that was so cute and nice. Back then, he had never realized she had about as much personality as carpet lint. 

In any case, she seemed happy and _normal_ now. He was glad, for everyone's sake.

  
  


"Wow, Lila...I can't believe you're getting married! When's the big day?"

She smiled joyfully, and twisted the ring on her finger. "To tell the truth, we haven't completely decided yet. But it'll be some time next year, and I'm _ever-so_ excited about it!"

  
  


Grate, grate.

  
  


"Well, congratulations to you and Stinky!"

They would probably have a pleasant little farm out in the pleasant little country, he decided, and raise horses and pumpkins, or something along those lines. That seemed...appropriate. Stinky had always had a 'thing' for her, he remembered.

"Thank-you, Arnold. I really appreciate it. Oh--and I must say, I'm happy for you, too." Lila said.

Arnold didn't understand that last part. "Huh? What do you mean?"

Lila's brow wrinkled in confusion, then she leaned in a bit as if she was about to discuss some great secret. "For you and Helga. I...I'm certain I saw you come in together, and I merely assumed the two of y....."

"What? Oh, no...nothing like that!" he said quickly. "We're just--y'know, friends." 

  
  


_Is that what we are? Since when?_

  
  


Her cheeks turned red. "Oh, dear...how _rude_ of me! I'm ever-so sorry I said anything! It isn't even any of my business--I just didn't think....and I was oh-so delighted...how ever-so sweet, since she used to have that little crush on you...and I always thought you'd be _such_ an oh-so-cute cou......_Oh, Arnold--I'm Ever-So SORRY!!_" she said in a voice bordering on hysteria.

"Lila! Lila.....stop it! It's OKAY." He never knew quite what to do when people got frantic and upset like that, and apparently Lila Sawyer was 'ever-so' worse than some. 

She covered her mouth with her hand, and calmed down. "I know....I just....I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so nosy. You must be absolutely embarrassed and insulted."

"Not at all. Don't worry about it--it doesn't bother me."

  
  


_And why do you think that is?......_

  
  


Boy, that subconscious of his could be irritating when it wanted to be.

  
  


"...Anyway, I'm certain I'd better go check on Stinky. I'm afraid he may be rambling on about lemon pudding again." She patted his shoulder and turned away with a smile. "It was ever-so wonderful to see you again, Arnold."

"Yeah. Ev...um, _nice _talking to you too. See you later, Lila." 

  
  
  
  


Now that she was gone, Arnold lost himself in thought again. He did that occasionally, when he wasn't sure how he felt about something and hoped that mulling it over in his mind might help. He knew it made him look a little spaced-out, but at least it wasn't as if he was talking to himself...not yet, anyway. 

  
  


_Well, that was a little...strange, _he thought. _I can't imagine why someone would just jump to such a conclusion. Kinda absurd--not to mention presumptuous. _

_(Maybe. But you weren't embarrassed or insulted by the idea, were you?)_

_No, not really......hey! Who asked you? _

Stupid voice of reason. 

  
  


His thoughts were rudely interrupted by the screeching sound of microphone feedback. All eyes turned to the small stage, where the emcee, or deejay, or whoever it was stood, preparing to make an announcement.

"_HEYYYY_...all you CRAAZY cats and chicks!" said the speaker loudly in an irritatingly cheerful voice. " Hope you're all having a _FAB_-Yoo-Luss time here at th...(here the microphone screeched again, and his voice was drowned out for a few seconds)...ve-Year Re-_YOON_-Yun! I'm afraid this CRAAZY little shindig is startin' to wind down...but before you say good-bye, how about we finish off the rest of the evening with a little _CRAAZY_ footwork? So for the next half-hour.....every guy grab a gal and let's see some CRAAZY dance moves out there on the floor!..." 

  
  


(_If that idiot says 'CRAAZY' one more time...I'm gonna deck 'im!_ thought Helga.)

  
  


"...Everybody BOOGIE!!!"

  
  


A fast song started playing, and a few people led their partners out into the middle of the room to dance. Arnold laughed slightly, recognizing the sound of a tango. How long since he had heard one of those? How long had it been since he had even tried _doing_ a tango? Yeeeears. Not since that April Fool's joke he had played on Helga... 

He furrowed his brow, remembering. It wasn't the greatest memory in the world--he'd been pretty mad at the time, and the whole thing had been an elaborate plot for revenge. One that made him feel slightly guilty.....although...she had deserved it. And, he admitted, it had been pretty funny forcing each other into the swimming pool--and then when that turtle.....

He chuckled at the mental image. For no reason at all, he happened to glance over at the opposite wall of the room. His gaze caught on a blonde in red, sitting by herself at one of the tables as the people around her stood to dance. She looked unbelievably bored. Even...sad.

  
  


Arnold watched her for a moment. Unaware it was doing so, his mouth crinkled into a small smile. 

_Why not?_

  
  


He walked over to her...

"Er...Helga?"

... and she looked up, slightly startled by his approach.

"Listen--I'm not really that good at this kind of thing, but...well......would you like to dance?"

She stared at the outstretched hand; then her eyes slowly traveled up to his face, curiously searching it for a long time.

Finally she smiled back, that same bright smile as before. She took his hand.

"Sure."


	6. Six:

  
  


**AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?**

  
  
  
  


**Part 6:**

  
  
  
  
  
  


"Okay then," said Arnold. He was a little surprised, although relieved, to hear consent. He had half-expected her to gnaw off his arm at the sheer audacity of the offer. She rose from her chair, and the two of them walked out to join the other couples. Arnold was glad to find that he could remember more of the steps than he had expected. Helga obviously recollected some too--soon she was basically leading _him_ around the floor, and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying every minute. 

A few people stopped to watch the blond man and woman, fairly impressed at their attempts as they danced on--apparently oblivious to anything but each other. (If you have ever seen a crowd of people dancing, you've noticed that most of them aren't very creative about it. So when somebody is actually gutsy enough to do something other than rock back and forth in one spot, no matter how crummy they are, it's usually quite entertaining. Try it sometime. It's fun, and everybody else will be impressed.) He spun her out to one side, and as he pulled her back towards him, he winked and said in a low voice;

  
  


"I don't suppose you've forgotten what happened the _last_ time we tangoed?"

Helga smirked, twirling out again. "Fat chance!" she whispered. "You'd better not sic another turtle on me, pal.....or _you'll_ be the one who gets bitten!"

"_I_ had nothing to do with that!" There was that blunt, sarcastic sense of humor again. Good. In some strange way, he had almost missed that.

  
  


He spun her around a final time to the rhythm of the music, and dipped her backwards over one arm. He grinned--this was about the most entertaining thing he'd done all night--and raised her slowly up again.

  
  


Then blue eyes looked into green eyes.

Only a few inches apart.

  
  


...And both of them froze.

  
  


A brief, panicky thought raced across each mind:

  
  
  
  


_What now?!_

  
  
  
  


That was about the full extent of the 'moment'...whatever it was...because just then, somebody accidently jabbed an elbow into Arnold's rib...

"Whoops! Sorry, man."

  
  


...and the unexpected jolt made him lose his balance. He and Helga toppled to the floor with an ungraceful *** THUD! *** Arnold partly managed to catch himself on the way down, but found himself hovering over her...again, only a few inches away. For a split second, they flushed with embarrassment, then the two of them sat up and got to their feet apologising profoundly. Neither of them noticed Gerald and Phoebe nearby.

  
  
  
  
  
  


_Man! That boy's got some hard ribs_, thought Gerald, rubbing his sore elbow gingerly.

"Gerald, you did that just so he would make a move!" Phoebe whispered.

"Well, I didn't think he was going to _fall over_!"

  
  
  
  
  
  


"I'm....._really_ sorry...I'm such a klutz."

"S'alright...I'm kind of clumsy too..."

"Are you okay?...I'm sorry." Twice in one day--_Yeesh_. That had to be some kind of record.

"I'm fine...I guess," she said, wincing suddenly. "My shoulder hurts. I think I might have bruised it or scraped it or something."

  
  


As if he didn't feel bad enough. He hated when people got injured because of him. Even petty little accidents like this. "It's my fault. Sit down...can I get you something?...Punch?...I'm really sorry!"

  
  


"Arnold...shut up," she said gently. "It _isn't_ your fault, and you don't have to be such a worrywart. I'm pretty tough, y'know." She shook her head. "But thanks...for caring," she added. "It's too dark in here to tell, so I'll go check my arm in the bathroom. Promise me you won't have a nervous breakdown over this?"

  
  


"Sure, I promise."

  
  
  
  


Helga left, and Arnold walked over to the refreshment table to get a drink. Several feet away, Gerald and Phoebe exchanged a knowing glance...then separated to go have a few words with their friends. 

  
  



	7. Sept:

  
  


**AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?**

  
  
  
  


**Part 7:**

  
  


Helga was washing her hands when Phoebe entered the women's restroom. "Are you alright, Helga?" Phoebe asked cautiously. "I couldn't help noticing...that was a nasty fall you took."

The blonde turned to face her. "Tell me about it. I'd be surprised if somebody _hadn't_ noticed." She laughed. "Pretty awkward, huh?"

"How are you feeling?"

"No sweat. There isn't even a mark," she answered, motioning to her arm.

The petite Japanese girl sighed. _Helga isn't going to like this,_ she thought.

"That isn't exactly what I meant..."

  
  
  
  
  
  


"...So Arnold--those were some pretty slick moves I saw you pullin' out there!" Gerald said, sidling up to the punch bowl beside his friend. Something in his tone struck Arnold as slightly--off, sarcastic perhaps...but he chose to ignore it.

"Thanks," he replied. "But you know, I was kind of surprised at Helga. She's actually a pretty good dancer. Didn't she take ballet or something in fourth grade?"

  
  


"Yeah....maybe. I forget," said Gerald, brushing the question aside. "You sure it was just a dance? There wasn't...anything _else_ going on I should know about?"

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"What exactly are you implying?" snapped Helga, getting defensive. "We were just goofing around...having a little fun. Now we'll say good-bye and forget about each other until another of these stupid reunions. Maybe next time, we'll dance the Funky Chicken instead. It doesn't mean a thing."

"Be that as it may, I can't help feeling that ever since this afternoon, you've been acting a little ...stranger than usual." (Helga scowled, but kept silent.) "And I must confess--it's been quite interesting watching the two of you together. More like old friends than old enemies."

"Oh, come on...I don't have any idea what you're getting at."

Phoebe crossed her arms. "Then you'll be completely surprised to hear what I think."

  
  


  
  
  
  


"WHAT?!" Arnold nearly spit out his punch. "Gerald...that's crazy! I've been around her for maybe ten minutes in the past ten years!"

"Don't blame me. _You're_ the hopeless romantic. _You're _the eternal optimist. _You're_ the one who sees 'good in everybody'--even screaming blowhards."

"Still, that doesn't mean..."

A smug expression crossed Gerald's face. "You like her."

"I always did! Even screaming blowhards can be good people deep down. When she didn't pull pranks and rant around like a tyrant, she wasn't so bad."

"Mm-hm. You....._Like_...her."

Arnold narrowed his eyes. "Not in _that_ way." He groaned aggravatedly and tried to walk away, but Gerald stopped him.

"Look, I know what I told you earlier. Not that I'm wrong--you're still hopeless...but...forget about it, okay? Forget everything I ever said." He shook his head. "It's obvious to the whole dang air-breathin' world that you are at least a _little_ attracted to this girl...and for once, _I_ am not going to try talking you out of it."

"I thought you couldn't stand her."

Gerald shrugged. "Things change. In my honest opinion, (here he glanced briefly in Lila's direction) you could probably do worse than Helga Pataki."

  
  


For a minute, Arnold wasn't sure how to respond. "I wish you'd stop talking like that," he said at last. " I barely know her anymore...not that I ever really did."

"So, what are you going to do about it, Don Juan?"

  
  


Arnold groaned again. Don Juan? Hardly. People were being awfully nosy about his personal life tonight. "Well," he said, "...if you're such an _expert_, why don't you tell me?"

"Go ask her out, or _something!_"

"Gerald, I really don't feel..."

"I got it!" Gerald said, snapping his fingers. "Why don't you see if she'll go with you to that 'film thing' of yours tomorrow?"

"The one _you_ and I were gonna go to? Boy, are you generous, Gerald...offering to give up your place so quickly," he said, sarcastically.

"Hey, I _told_ you I didn't wanna go sit around and watch a bunch of old movies! I think she even likes all that artsy-fartsy stuff anyhow...so you'll have _lots_ more fun. Besides, that way you won't have to hear me complaining."

  
  


Arnold sighed, defeated...obviously his best friend wasn't going to give up. 

  
  


"Fine! I'll ask."

  
  


  
  
  
  
  
  


"Are you sure that's such a good idea, Phoebe?"

Phoebe smiled reassuringly, and opened the door. "Of course. Confronting your fears is the only way to find out if you truly feel the same way about him anymore." She gestured out towards the dark room lying beyond the safe haven of the lavatory. "...What have you got to lose?"

  
  


Helga walked out, glancing anxiously about until she spotted the familiar blond mane._ What have I got to lose?_ she asked herself uneasily. _Hmph! Nothing much._

_Just my heart--again._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


"Hey, Arnold," she said, coming up behind him.

"Hey." Gerald had walked away to give him a bit of privacy, but he could still feel eyes watching the two of them and that certainly didn't help things any. He wasn't sure how she would react to his question--probably laugh in his face, since it unfortunately had all the implications of asking her on a date. But it wasn't a date, he reminded himself, and he had agreed to ask her in any case. No harm in that, right? Right. "How's your arm?" he began.

"Oh, fine. Just--fine. Couldn't be better."

  
  


Did she seem a little tense? Nah, that couldn't be it.

  
  


He cleared his throat. Somehow, this wasn't as easy as he'd expected, not like casually suggesting to one of the guys that they play some baseball or catch a movie for old time's sake. But then again it _was_ just Helga, an old friend...sort of. Heck, she'd always been _kind_ of like one of the guys--although much smarter and surprisingly interesting to talk to, he'd learned on those rare occasions when she had been willing to open up to someone...

Hm...the more he considered it, the nicer the idea of hanging out with her a while sounded. 

  
  


Glancing around, Arnold noticed that the room was slowly emptying. Several people had already left, and a cleaning crew had begun to remove the decorations. "Well..." he said, " ...it looks like the party is basically over. I guess that means it's about time for me to go."

"Yeah. I should start heading home, too." Mustering up her control, she shook his hand and smiled. "It turned out to be fun, though. Thanks, Arnold. I'm glad you came."

"Me too. Even if it wasn't for very long, it was great to see you again."

_I guess it's now or never._

  
  


Helga was still shaking his hand, fighting between one urge to squeeze it tighter, and another to yank hers away at once. She took a deep breath. "Arnold...could I ask you something?"

His eyes widened slightly. "Sure. What is it?"

Steady girl. "Would you....."

  
  


_(Go ahead. What are you waiting for?)_

_No.....I can't. I've...changed my mind. Phoebe doesn't know everything, and I don't love him anymore. Simple as that. I'm going to forget; it's easier that way--for both of us._

  
  


"Would I...?"

She pulled her hand back. "W--would you.....consider...doing this again at our next reunion? The dance, I mean?.... We could make it a tradition." _(Whew! Smooth. REAL smooth,_ she told herself critically.

"Of course. And I promise not to drop you next time."

"Great," she sighed, masking the slight tinge of regret that threatened in her voice. "So--I guess I'll see you...when I see you. Take care of yourself." She turned to leave. ".....Bye." 

  
  


"Er...Helga--wait a minute."

  
  


She stopped.

  
  


"Before you go, I wanted to ask you about something."

  
  


_Alright, what now?_ she wondered.

  
  


"I didn't get to talk to you much today...so I was wondering if you'd like to go...do something, sometime. Catch up with each other.

  
  


_He's kidding. Nobody ever 'catches up' with Helga Pataki. He's just being nice, again._

  
  


"Are you busy tomorrow?"

  
  


_He's...not kidding?_

"Er.....no. I'm not busy. What did you have in mind, Arnold?"

  
  


"Well..." He paused, scratching the back of his neck. "...I heard about this thing they're having in the city park tomorrow evening. Some local organization is hosting a movie night--you know, where they set up a screen and show old black-and-white films, stuff like that."

  
  


_He's serious._

  
  


"Anyway, I wanted to go, but no one else was really interested, so I thought..." (Whoops--that hadn't come out quite right. Hopefully, she hadn't noticed.) "...I mean--I heard _you_ might enjoy that sort of thing , so I thought that maybe it would be fun to go together. Just the two of us."

  
  


_He's SERIOUS..._

  
  


"Helga? Whaddya say?"

  
  


Helga was silent for a long moment, apparently thinking it over. Arnold was beginning to worry--perhaps he'd said something wrong?--when she looked up, and a slow smile spread across her face.

"I'd like that."

He brightened. "Great! Why don't we meet in front of the south entrance, tomorrow?"

"Okay."

"Six-thirty?"

"I'll be there," she nodded. Helga began to walk away. When she joined Phoebe and they headed toward the exit, she called cheerfully over one shoulder," See ya' then, _Football-head_."

"See ya'." 

  
  


A second later, Gerald was standing there, arms crossed.

"Mm--mm--_mmm_," he muttered.

"What?"

"I wonder about you sometimes, Arnold."

He narrowed his eyes. "This was _your_ idea, remember? And okay...I'll admit I'm starting to think it won't be too bad after all. So thanks for talking me into it."

"Of course." He paused, suppressing a grin. "Told ya' so--Romeo."

"Gerald....."

"Bet you five bucks I'm right..."

"Shut up."

  
  


As they left the community center, Gerald patted him supportively on the back. 

"You know I'm always here for you, buddy."

"It isn't a date, Gerald," said Arnold, annoyed.

"Sure, sure....whatever you say." 

"Knock it off!"

He grinned. "You're a bold dude, Arnold. A _BOLD_ dude."

  
  


  
  
  
  


Meanwhile, a good distance away, Helga grabbed Phoebe's arm and squeezed it tightly. 

"Phoebe..." she said in a hushed voice.

"I think I have a_ DATE._"

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


***************

A/N: Well, that's the first half of the story. Dripping with cheese and sap. Ah well; now the real fun begins. Much general goofiness to follow, so please keep reading!


	8. Huit:

  
  


**~AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?~**

  
  


**Part 8:**

  
  
  
  


They walked along the path leading to the center of the park, the old worn stones under their feet reminding them with each step of so many moments in their youth. How very long since either had been there. It was a nice park, really. Still huge--even though she no longer saw it through the eyes of a wistful child. Helga wondered if she had ever even seen the whole thing. (Most of her visits had involved a particular pink bench under an old tree, where more than a few times she had carved a particular pair of initials into hearts.) Certainly, she had often come in the evening like this, when the sun was just setting across the other side of the city. She would have liked to see that sunset.

She wouldn't have minded seeing it with him.

Perhaps some other time. 

Right now, she'd rather pay attention to what he was saying--even if it was pretty unbelievable.

  
  
  
  


".....and was my professor mad when his eyebrows got scorched off! He looked like Groucho Marx to begin with, so this made him look _really_ bizzare--all he had left were these two white spots where the hair used to be...Don't worry, they grew back. He _did_ seem kind of impressed that we'd somehow set the desk on fire with only formaldehyde and a ham sandwich......" He paused to make sure she was listening, before he continued. "...Until then, I'd never believed those stories about someone almost burning down their school laboratory. But it was an accident, honest. .....So there--Archaeology is definitely _not_ boring!" 

She smirked. More wacky stuff happened to him in a day than in some people's lifetimes.

"You know, Arnold.....I get the feeling that parts of your story were _entirely made up_," she accused.

"Are you saying I'm a liar?"

"Hey, I call 'em as I see 'em."

He laughed. "Well, yeah...I guess I _am_ starting to sound like my grandpa. I might have exaggerated a little when I told you the mummified cat went up in flames and we had to put it out with orange soda." A sly look crossed his face. "....Actually, I think it was grape..."

  
  


Well, they do say truth is stranger than fiction.

  
  


"So, what kind of crazy shenanigans have you been in lately?"

"None as..._adventurous_...as yours, that's for sure," Helga answered, still laughing. "Actually, I'm downright boring. I've done some theater--as you might have guessed..."

  
  


_She always was a good actress_, he remembered.

  
  


"...and also a little French. I'm going to France under a 'study abroad' program later this year. But mostly, I've been studying English literature and composition. Poetry, y'know. I guess I'd still like to be some kind of writer, eventually. I think it might be fun to write for a newspaper if I ever get the chance."

"As a reporter?" he asked. "Or do you mean, more along the lines of an advice column?"

She scoffed. "Advice?_ Phffft!_ ...Honestly, Arnold--can you imagine _me_ telling a bunch of gullible slobs how to fix their problems?"

"Yeah, good point. You give the _worst_ advice I've ev....."

She socked him lightly in the arm. "Very funny. I bet you'd get a big kick out of it if I told you what I _really_ want to do someday." Once the words escaped, she wished she hadn't said them. "Er.....never mind."

"Tell me," he said, genuinely interested.

"Forget it, Chuckles. It's silly, and I refuse to let you laugh at me." 

"Come on, I won't laugh. I _promise_."

  
  


Helga considered it, tumbling the thought over in her mind. It was Arnold...if anyone understood, he might. At one time, he'd had less sense of reality than she.....

She sighed. "Well.....I guess what I've always sort of dreamed about--ever since I was a little girl--was to...travel. To see everything." She grinned, her happy thoughts slowly beginning to spill out. "You know: fly around...see and do all kinds of strange, new things...visit those romantic, amazing, _exotic_ places you only hear about--Brazil..Japan...Italy...._Sri Lanka_....._Milwaukee_! _The whole nine yards!!_"

"Milwaukee is 'strange and exotic'?" he interrupted, amused.

"Okay, no...not really," Helga admitted. "But you get the general idea."

She spoke softer as she continued, trying not to blush. "...The thing is, though, I don't want to do all that alone. ....I think I've always had this hope of finding....._somebody_...who, well..." She could feel her face growing redder by the minute as she skipped ahead. "...a-and then we could.....travel everywhere and see all those things together...and we'd--y'know, always be _there_ for each other." Whew. There she went, exposing her softer side--the sappy romantic she always tried so hard to cover up. Stupid, lovable, honest Arnold. She wished he hadn't seen her like that...so obviously embarrassed, since half her childhood had been spent daydreaming such things about the two of them, (_Coffee and roses in Paris, indeed! What a joke!_) but in a small way, it felt good telling him. "Pretty dumb, huh?" she said, attempting to hide her discomfort.

"No. It isn't."

Gently, he put a hand on her shoulder. "It's a _nice_ dream, and there's no reason it shouldn't come true for you, someday. Dreams give us hope. And hope is what makes life so worthwhile."

"Boy--that was schmaltzy. You really are impossible."

"I don't mind." He smiled warmly at the unusual girl who he'd known for so long, yet never truly begun to understand. Maybe that could still change. Every glimpse of herself that she shared, no matter how tiny, intrigued him. There weren't a whole lot of people whom he felt comfortable with--_really_ comfortable, that is, as if one could just sit around and talk to them about anything at all...simply because they were so easy to talk to.

  
  


Maybe she was one of those people.

He was willing to find out, in any case.

  
  


"You know, I've always felt sort of the same way," he said. "My parents used to do that kind of thing; they traveled all over and explored a lot of places. I always thought it would be great to do some of those same things that they used to, visit the same places, see the same sights. Like you said....go everywhere. See everything. With somebody along to share all those amazing experiences, whatever they might be." Arnold laughed abruptly, chasing the slightly far-off look from his face. "I never would have expected you to feel like that, though. Looks like we're just a couple of dreamers with our heads in the clouds."

"There are worse things. Sometimes I'd rather live in a cloud than on earth." She paused. "...We're...We're not so different, are we, Arnold?"

He pondered that for a minute. "No, I guess not. I'm a little more optimistic than you...and a little more polite..."

"You forgot 'clumsier' and 'more ignorant'."

"--yes of course--and you're more pig-headed, stubborn, and critical than I'll ever be..." (She scowled in mock anger.) "But no. In some ways, we aren't so different at all."

  
  


Their eyes met, and they exchanged smiles.

"Thanks, Arnold."

  
  
  
  


They rounded a bend in the path, and found themselves in the little clearing in the middle of the park where people had already begun to gather, waiting for the film equipment to be set up. As they joined the other moviegoers, Arnold turned to her. "Even if all the movies stink--I'm glad we came. I'm glad _you_ could come," he added.

"I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

  
  
  
  



	9. Neuf:

  
  


**~AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?~**

  
  


**Part 9:**

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_"AR-Nold and HEL-Ga...SIT-Tin' IN a TREE........KAY--Eye--ESS--ESS--Eye--In--GEEEEE!....."_

  
  
  
  
  
  


The thought came unbidden to her mind. If the old Harold Berman could see them now...

They'd never hear the end of it.

  
  


Well, they _were_ sitting in a tree...that much was true, even if the rest of the childish song didn't exactly apply.

It wasn't a large tree--somewhat short and squatty, with a few thick branches hanging low to the ground and curving off into dark leaves at the ends. They sat there on the lowest branch, side by side, suspended about three feet above earth. People, mostly couples or small groups of friends, were spread out all across every inch of grass in front of them on blankets or in lawn chairs. The huge screen sat several yards away, showing the evening's entertainment.

  
  


Arnold leaned over slightly to whisper. "Sorry this tree was the only place we could find to sit. I didn't know we were supposed to bring our own chairs..."

"Nah, that's okay. We can see and hear just fine from here," she replied. "Besides, it's different--kinda fun." It really was. The bark of the tree wasn't too rough, and the branch was wide enough so that they could sit comfortably, and the extra height allowed them to see over everyone's heads. They were practically alone in the 'back row', you might say--but all in all, they had pretty good seats. 

And considering who was with her,

Helga couldn't complain. 

...Although, she also wouldn't have minded seeing a different movie. The one playing at the moment was an extremely melodramatic 'film noir' type...meaning it was black and white and, in this case, _cheeeeeesy _all over. But fortunately, they had both seen it a few times, and could laugh at most of the corny dialogue. 

"This thing gets stupider every time I see it," Arnold commented about halfway through. "Just listen to them...Who talks like that?!" He watched thoughtfully for a moment. "_This_ part isn't too bad, but that girl says something I never can understand.....I always wondered what."

  
  
  
  


(The brunette on the screen was clasping her hands, muttering partly to herself and partly to her co-star standing nearby.

_--"Je ne sais pas pourquoi, ...mais je...je vous aime. ...Oui, c'est vrai. Je t'aime. En fait, je T'ADORE. Là, je l'admets!"_ she said almost inaudibly.)

  
  
  
  


Arnold felt a light nudge on his arm. He turned to face Helga, sitting a short distance away. There was a very frank, nonchalant look on her face...one that suggested she wanted to tell him something.

"I love you," she said. 

He blinked, taken aback. His throat tightened...surely he hadn't heard _that_. His hearing was playing tricks--yes, that must be it. "Ex--excuse me?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

She sighed, and began to repeat herself carefully as if addressing a small, ignorant child. "Are you deaf? _I...Love...You!_"

  
  
  
  
  
  


*************************

A/N: Yes, this is horribly short, but it was the only way to end with any kind of cliffhanger (if you can call it that). Just to make it up to you, the next chapter is muuuuuuuuch longer, and the question of "Where'd That Title Come From?" will finally be answered. Hooray!

And my deepest, most sincere apologies to anyone from Milwaukee. No offense was meant; I've never actually been to Wisconsin and for all I know, Milwaukee is a thrill-a-minute land of excitement.

  
  


To PhebgaMFM: Maybe you're right. Then again, it was a very casual, friendly bet and they're college students. And five extra bucks is a lot of money to every poor, destitute college student I've ever met. :)

And Beady: I can't believe you called me a _booger_, ya' little snot!


	10. Dix:

  
  
  
  


**~AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?~**

  
  
  
  


**Part 10:**

  
  
  
  


What now? He hadn't expected anything like _that_, even if the subject of, um......childhood feelings...did happen to come up.

He was still trying to convince himself he had heard wrong. But he hadn't--he knew he hadn't--and now...what would he possibly say to her?

  
  


Fortunately, before he could speak again, Helga shot him a strange look and scrunched up her brow in confusion. 

"That's what she said...in the movie...two seconds ago," she explained. _"'Je t'aime!'_ means _'I love you!'_ You said you couldn't understand her; it's because she's speaking _French_. I didn't really catch the rest. 'I don't know why, but I love you...' Something like that, anyway." Pause. More scrunching. "...Arnold? Hey, cut it out. You've got that loopy blank look again!"

  
  


Blink...blink. "Sorry Helga...for a minute, I --the mov..._that_'s what she says? Wow--thanks!" A quick wave of relief had washed over him, but with it came the slightest twinge of ....disappointment? No, surely not. 

"...Er--that's pretty cool...you speaking French and all," he said. "How much do you know?"

"Only _un petit peu_--a little bit--so far. But I'm getting better at it."

"I'm impressed. It isn't easy to learn another language." (_And I'm glad she cleared up that little ...misunderstanding... before I got the chance to open my fat mouth and embarrass us both..._)

"I guess not. Thanks..." Helga squinted at the screen, listening carefully. "...She's stopped now, so that's all the translating you get. Sorry."

  
  
  
  
  
  


(The man and woman in the film were fighting now. They continued their black and white conversation, even more overly dramatic than before.

--_"What do you mean, you don't know how to handle that? I'm only telling you the truth!!"_

_--"Th' truth?_ he snapped._ The TRUTH? The truth is, you act like you're always out t' get me...POW! Right where it hurts! .....Your kind of love ain't nothin' but a kick in th' head!" _)

  
  
  
  
  
  


"That line always reminds me of one of those crazy old songs," Helga commented.

"What....'Love's a kick in th' head?'" He smiled, recalling the words to a certain melody his grandparents had belted out on a few occasions. "I think I know which song you mean."

They fell quiet--then Arnold broke the silence, singing very softly and slowly for no particular reason...

  
  


"....like th' fella once said--ain't..that..a kick..in..th' heeaad....?" 

  
  


She heard him and looked up, amused. Arnold kept going, slightly louder...

  
  


"...my head keeps....._spin_nin'..."

  
  


...and she suddenly joined in with the next line, twice as loud. People sitting nearby began to take notice.

  
  


"..._I_ go.._To_ sleep.._And_ keep....._Grin_nin'..."

  
  


Surprised by this, he grinned and turned toward her, still singing. They narrowed their eyes slyly--almost tauntingly--and continued the duet, growing even louder in a silly attempt to outdo one another.

  
  


"..._IF_..This..._IS_..Just..._THE_..Be...--_GIN_ -Nin'..." 

  
  


"...**_MY_**...Life...**_IS_**...Gon-**_NA_**..Be..........BEEE--_**YOOOOOOO**--TEEE--FULL!!_..."

  
  


People sitting nearby began to get annoyed.

  
  


"...I've **_SUN_**-Shine E-**_NOUGH_** To **_SPREAD_**..."

  
  


"...**_I'ts JUST Like Th' FE-llaaaaa SAID_**..."

  
  


**"...TELL ME _QUICK_--AIN'T LOVE A _KICK_.......IN..TH'..._HEEEEAAAAADDDD!!!_"**

  
  
  
  


At this point, the people sitting nearby got thoroughly fed up and started yelling...

  
  


_"HEY, PIPE DOWN!!"_

_"We're Watchin' a MOVIE Here!!"_

_"SHADDUP!"_

_"Stupid KIDS!!"_

  
  


...and so on.

  
  
  
  


Startled and embarrassed, they quickly stopped singing. Then after an awkward pause they exchanged glances... and that only made things worse. (If you've ever tried to keep a straight face when something stupid or funny happens, and then noticed someone _else_ with the same problem.....you will understand exactly. People trying not to laugh at something almost always end up laughing even _harder_--once they catch sight of each other trying not to laugh in the first place. You know how it is.....Anyway, that's basically what happened next.) They started snickering, trying desperately to stay serious, but they couldn't prevent the goofy grins that stretched across their faces. Then one of them (probably Helga) accidently _snorted_--and they burst out laughing so hard that it was all either of them could do to not fall off of the branch. The annoyed, fed-up people were even crankier about this new noise and shushed them quite a bit before they managed to calm down.

  
  


"...(mmph)--S-sorry! I...didn't know we had..(phft!)..gotten so _loud!_..." Arnold sputtered quietly. 

" ...(he--heh)..Me neither..." 

"Where did _you_ learn that song? I didn't think you listened to that kind of music."

"I don't--and I have absolutely no idea!" 

  
  


Helga covered her mouth with one hand to stifle the giggling, and leaned the other on the tree branch to steady herself. 

Taking a deep breath to finally bring his laughter under control, Arnold lay his own hand on the branch.

Or rather, he _meant_ to lay it on the branch.

But instead of cool, bumpy tree bark...when he put his hand down, he felt something warm and slightly soft under his fingers. He knew at once that he had accidentally put his hand across hers, and the knowledge that it wasn't by any means an unpleasant feeling flitted across his thoughts. For a split second, he actually found himself thinking:

  
  


_...Oops. Well, if she doesn't mind, I won't either....._

  
  


...before either of them realized what was going on. They looked down and saw for a fact that their hands were touching. A tiny, meaningless thing, really, and yet... 

Slowly, they glanced up...otherwise frozen, as their eyes met again

  
  
  
  
  
  


*******************************

A/N: Kudos to those of you who guessed (more or less correctly) what would happen! To those of you who were severely disappointed, I say: C'est la vie. That's life. Eat a cookie and feel better.

Ok, two more things: 1. Please pardon my French. I don't know much yet, so I may be screwing up all kinds of grammar rules. And 2. I'm not sure who wrote this song. I do know Dean Martin sang the version I'm familiar with. It's silly, but very upbeat and fun and 'big band'; think Dino Spumoni-style, if that helps.

(Told 'ja the title would finally come into play. :) It doesn't just refer to the song, if you think about it. )


	11. Onze:

  
  


**~AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?~**

  
  


**Part 11:**

  
  
  
  


Hints of a smile played at the corners of their mouths, but were quickly replaced by the red tints spreading over their cheeks. They jerked their hands away, each with a hastily muttered "Sorry..." and then pretended to suddenly take _great_ interest in the movie. 

  
  


_What's WRONG with you, ya' moron?!_ Helga shook herself mentally, suddenly angry. _ Can't you have fun just hanging out and being yourself around an old friend...without making anything too complicated?_

_(Not if it's Arnold...)_ chirped her voice of reason. 

_Especially if it's Arnold! Criminy! Quit blushing like an embarrassed maniac over every stupid little thing. And just now--with the hands? Nothing! Another dumb accident, that's all!_

_(But what if it wasn't?)_

_Of course it was! He pulled away like he was touching a dead rat.....We BOTH pulled away._

_(But you hesitated. And he hesitated even longer.)_

  
  


Helga's eyes grew wide and her eyebrows shot up.

  
  
  
  


_EEP!_

  
  
  
  


Naturally, he couldn't hear her thoughts. But he _did_ hear a muffled ***THWUMP***, followed by an "OOF!" as she lost her balance and fell backwards off the limb.

He turned and bent down to look. "Um...Helga? Are you alright?"

She jumped to her feet and began wiping the dirt and grass from her clothes. "Me? Yep.....(heh)...Never better. Why do you ask?"

"You just fell out of a tree."

"So? What's your point?....It's a free country, y'know."

His eyes narrowed. "Yeah--but _you just fell out of a tree_."

"This is a public park. _I'm_ the public, and I can fall out of any tree I want," she insisted.

  
  


Arnold sighed. _Women._ Why bother? "Hold still a minute," he said. Then he began to lean over, arm outstretched toward her.

"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" she shouted, jumping back and shoving his hand aside.

Arnold wasn't a bit fazed by her sudden change in attitude. "Knock it off, Helga," he said dryly. "You have grass in your hair. I was just trying to do you a favor, and pull some of it out."

"Oh." She stepped closer, and allowed him to brush away the little bits of green. "...I'm sorry, Arnold," she said quietly. "I don't know what came over me. Old habit, I guess."

"I understand." Funny--something about this almost reminded him of a dream he'd had once. Something about a hay-ride...but Helga hadn't been there, so that didn't make sense, did it?

  
  


His hand brushed her ear, and she shivered. _I mustn't keep doing this,_ she thought. _Not to him--and not to me..._ She pushed his arm away, gently this time. "Thanks, Arnold. You can stop now," she said, with a polite smile. "...Falling out of trees makes me thirsty, so...uh,...I'm going to go find a water fountain. I'll be back in a little while."

"Sure, go ahead," he said as she walked off. "I'll still be here--watching the rest of the movie."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*******************

A/N: It's been longer than usual in between updates. Sorry. 

My reason? Er...........ah..........ummm...........Look--a mongoose!!!

(runs away while reader is distracted by clever ploy)

  
  



	12. Douze:

  
  


**~AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?~**

  
  


**Part 12:**

  
  
  
  


Arnold turned back around to face the screen. His legs were complaining--tired of being dangled in the air so long--so he shifted sideways and stretched out along the branch, leaning up against the tree trunk. Not bad. A light breeze blew through the leaves overhead and sent a chill down his spine. He snuggled deeper into his thick sweater, quickly getting very comfortable. That, along with the warm, happy feeling still in his stomach from so much laughing, began to make him a little sleepy. Not bad at all. He yawned.....no, no--that wouldn't do. Helga would be back soon, and it would be rude if he were asleep when she returned.

He suppressed a second yawn and forced his eyelids open. Funny how he was suddenly bored, sitting there alone. Maybe if he concentrated on the movie.

  
  
  
  
  
  


(_--"...because I knew you'd feel the same way. And then, I wouldn't have to be afraid anymore,"_ said the woman. It was hard to make out either of the actors' faces--one stood in shadow, the other with her back to the camera.

--_"And just what makes you think that day is today?"_ asked the man, a hint of irritation in his voice.

--The gorgeous brunette turned around slowly. _"Let's call it...hope?"_ She smiled anxiously, )

  
  
  
  
  
  


...and Arnold caught something. _Hm,_ he thought. _She looks a little--wait, make that...a LOT, like...Helga? I never noticed that before._

  
  
  
  
  
  


(-- She sighed when there was no response from the shadows. _"I understand,"_ she said, sadly. _"I guess I should have expected this, considering how I've treated you."_ Then the dark-haired man stepped into the light, )

  
  
  
  
  
  


...and as he did so, Arnold couldn't help noticing the unusual shape of the actor's head. Sort of--oblong? A little like a taco. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


(_--"Helen, wait."_ He took her by the arm, pulling her close. _"I never said you were WRONG. Maybe...just maybe, that day IS today.")_

  
  
  
  
  
  


Or more precisely--a little like a football. He didn't remember seeing _that_ before, either. Although, he also hadn't watched the movie in a long while...

  
  
  
  
  
  


_(--"Even after everything that's happened?"_

_--"Fahgedaboudit. It's in the past."_ He paused. _"Yer' right...I DO love you."_

_--"Oh, Andrew..."_ said the woman-who-looked-a-lot-like-Helga, embracing him. _"...But...what will everyone say? What will they think?"_

_--"Who cares?" _ said the taco/football-headed man. He pulled her closer, and they kissed.)

  
  
  
  
  
  


And Arnold sat bolt upright, blinking his eyes furiously and pinching himself awake.

The hallucination, or whatever you would call it, dissolved into thin air, and the people on the screen were back to their normal selves. No longer did they seem to resemble himself and...(gulp)...someone else.

  
  


_Okay....okay! Take it easy, Arnold,_ he told himself. _It's your stupid imagination, that's all._ He shook his head, trying desperately to shrug off the image still floating in his mind.

_You've seen this dumb movie too many times, and so you just had a weird little daydream about it. It...DIDN"T...ACTUALLY...HAPPEN......and it doesn't mean a thing._

  
  


Breathing a sigh of relief, he leaned against the tree trunk again. But the nagging feeling wouldn't go away.

  
  


_(So...why imagine THAT, and why does it still bother you?)_

  
  


"Ughhhh..." Arnold groaned, rubbing the back of his neck and slouching over. He rested his elbows on his knees as he tried to piece together his jumbled thoughts.

  
  


_Let's see..._he began.

_Maybe...it all starts when you're a kid, with this diabolical little bully who torments you and hates you for no good reason, and spends nearly every waking moment trying to make your very existence as miserable as possible..._

_(But somehow, you can't ever seem to hate her for it, maybe because you've seen how other people have treated her all her life and you know deep down she's just afraid to be herself--and you kind of understand why she acts the way she does...)_

_Even though that's no excuse for her behavior. At any rate, you TOLERATE it, every single time, hoping someday things will work out and she won't be so horrible to everybody and will finally leave you alone. Then, out of the blue, you find out she doesn't hate you at all._

_She LOVES you._

_At least that's what she says.....And you really don't want to believe it, but the more you think about it, the more you know it's true--as true of a love as an emotionally unstable, slightly neurotic nine-year-old can feel, anyway. And then you don't know WHAT to think anymore, because all of a sudden, your safe little world has stopped making sense..._

_(But that's not so bad, since one day you move off, and you never expect to be back or to see her again long enough for it to matter whether or not you ever asked yourself: "What if?')_

'What if'? 'What if'...._what?_

_ ...Yet...you DO see her again after what seems like another lifetime has passed, and discover that somewhere along the line she finally became what she was hiding all along: an interesting, possibly--amazing person who isn't so afraid of herself anymore. And you're--y'know--HAPPY for her. You get to see her the way she is, deep down, and it's nice being around her...now that she doesn't try to bite your head off every time you speak. Even though it's been such a short time, you really like this gradual getting to know each other...actually becoming friends..._

_(And the more you get to know her, the more you'll enjoy being near her; and the more you enjoy being near her, the more you'll begin to miss her when you're apart...)_

_And you aren't exactly sure why, or HOW you feel about that--but you do know it feels...right. And that it's as if she's been there all along, somewhere, waiting in the back of your mind._

_Waiting for YOU._

_And you obviously can't help thinking about her..._

  
  


Something clicked inside, and Arnold's eyes opened wide with a sudden thought. 

  
  


  
  


_EEP!_

  
  


  
  


Slowly, he slid off the branch, running his fingers nervously through his hair. "I--I should go find her...I think..." he said to himself quietly. What now? This...yes, this probably changed a few things, didn't it?

  
  


_I guess Gerald was right._

_Does that mean I owe him five bucks?_

  
  


He walked away from the tree, away from the crowd, in the direction she had gone--all the while searching for that familiar pink and yellow. Although unsure of what he would say--even of what he truly felt--his instinct told him something ought to be said. Finally...

  
  


_There she is._

He stopped.

_But--who's that with her?_


	13. Treize:

  
  


**Beady:** No excuse. I'm just evil, that's all. (And don't put your guard down yet; mongooses are tricksy little beasts.) But thanks for the tip about the settings. I had no idea that option even existed.

***********************************************

  
  
  
  


**~AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?~**

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Part 13:**

  
  


Helga smiled, cringing inwardly as she did so. To be perfectly honest, she would have preferred having a root canal while riding a subway over seeing him like this. Or getting mauled by rabid hamsters. (Or maybe even getting mauled in a subway by rabid hamsters with root canals.) She felt like punching him in the nose. She felt like throwing rocks--but she wasn't about to let him know that. "That's great. I should have guessed," she said to the man at her side. Ugh. Just when her fears had started to subside..._he_ had to show up. He knew all too well how she felt about him--correction, _used_ to feel. And he'd never, never let her live it down--not since that horrible day. How she wanted to despise him...and yet, she still couldn't bring herself to do so.

  
  


_"Oui_--no surprise there. But _you_....what brings _you_ out by yourself tonight, _cheri_? I did not think you were the type to get all mooney-eyed over sappy movies." He smirked. "Then again--I never know _what_ you will get mooney-eyed over."

She winced...fortunately, those acting lessons paid off, and it wasn't noticeable. "Don't call me _'cheri'_," she said stiffly. "I think it's about time we put all that behind us, don't you?" Another polite smile crossed her face. "Besides...you know perfectly well I'm _not_ the type to get 'mooney-eyed', and furthermore I'm _not_ here by myself. I'm with a friend."

He raised an eyebrow, then crossed his arms with a chuckle. "Well! _ C'est bon_.....But where might this 'friend' of yours be hiding? You must introduce us."

"He's....over there, waiting for me." She pointed toward the crowd of moviegoers some distance away. "I was just on my way back when you stopped me. He must be getting worried, so I ought to go..." The last thing she wanted to do now was introduce the two of them. If that happened, somehow she didn't think any amount of explaining would cover up the hole she would be digging herself into. That hole was deep enough already without dragging Arnold into it.

"Then...I insist I accompany you. I would love to meet this 'friend' of yours...especially since, judging from your anxiety and the way you are blushing, it would appear he is _much_ more than just that..." He laughed, seeing how much the teasing bothered her. "Someone has finally won you over--_non_? And to think, you always tried to act so _heartless_ and _tough...._" 

  
  


_What?! So, he actually had the nerve to imagine.....? _Great. The hole was about to get bigger. 

  
  


She ignored his last comment. "I wasn't blushing. But yes...I guess you _could_ call him my...my--er--_boyfriend_..." 

  
  


(_Liar, liar, pants on fire!)_ scolded her conscience.

_Hey--I didn't lie. I merely...improved the truth. He is a boy, after all...and he IS a friend._

_(Yeah, well, he won't be if he finds out what you said...)_

_I'll worry about that when it happens. Right now, it can't hurt anything. _

  
  


"Lucky guy. I should warn him." He smiled again. That same half-lidded, lopsided grin she hadn't forgotten either time.

  
  


Maybe, with a little quick thinking, she could still get away without being rude. Maybe she could still save face and avoid any awkward situations...

  
  


Too late for 'maybe's she realized, when out of the corner of one eye, she caught sight of the bushy-haired figure headed towards them. (_That blockhead! _she thought. _The one time I wish he'd stay away from me, heeeeere he comes. I just had to open my big mouth and lie. How do I get out of this now?_) 

Then, an idea popped into her head. A crazy, reckless idea, but she was desperate. And maybe, once _he_ was out of the picture, Arnold would forgive her sometime in the next twenty years. 

  
  


_(Arnold's going to be mad if you toy with his feelings like this.)_

_Heck, I'd hate me for this too--but it should stall him enough for me to get rid of this guy for good. This way, there's only one person to deal with._

_And it's better than letting HIM get to me again..._

  
  
  
  


Arnold approached the water fountains where they were standing. Somehow her dark-haired companion looked vaguely familiar, although he knew they had never met. As he walked closer...it struck him that the man reminded him of the actor in his daydream.....whose face had disturbingly resembled the one he saw in his mirror. 

That didn't matter, though, since it was probably his imagination again and as soon as he got the chance he would talk to her alone. 

But how would she react? Considering everything they'd ever been through together, wasn't this a little ironic?

And what if she didn't feel the same way at all? Feelings changed, after all.

_People_ changed.

Well...he still ought to say something. He could live down the rejection if it came. He had done so before.

  
  


_Maybe I'm making too big a deal out of this. Just act natural._

  
  


Now he was fairly close to the spot. He smiled, trying to appear as easygoing as possible, and opened his mouth to speak. 

  
  


"Uh.....Hey, Hel--_GAAAHMMmmph?!!?..._"

  
  


The '_ga_' came out all shocked and muffled like that, because at that exact moment she turned and ran to him with a joyful "_Arnold!!!_", threw her arms around his neck, and...

  
  
  
  


...suddenly some long-forgotten moments from childhood flashed across his memory.

  
  


--_"Cut! Young lady...I said 'Cut.' Do you hear me? CUT!"_

_--"Come here, ya' big lug!..."_

_--"You think I WANTED to do that? Yuck!!"_

_Hold it...I'm not enjoying this--am I?_

  
  


_AM I?!_

  
  
  
  


It lasted barely a second or two before he pushed her away, his eyes bulging with surprise. Sure, Helga had never been what you'd call predictable--but.._that?_ "If you don't mind telling me..." he managed to sputter, struggling to control his voice, "..._WHAT was THAT all about?!_" 

"_Listen,_" she whispered anxiously, "...I'm _sorry..._but for once in your do-goody, honest-to-a-fault, squeaky-clean life_...please, _just_ PLAY ALONG..._"

  
  


Whatever game this was, he didn't want to be a part of it. But something in her tone convinced him--at least for the time being--not to say anything. _"Fine,"_ he whispered back. "I just have one question."

  
  


He nodded toward the other man, watching the scene from a few feet away with a slightly amused expression on his face.

  
  


"Who's _this_?" 

  
  



	14. Quartorze:

**The Silent Poet**: Yeah, I guess some chapters are kind of short. I do it just to irritate you...heh heh heh. Actually, they're short because they were originally written to fit on the nickelodeon message board; then some new rules were added (i.e. characters couldn't be made much older) before I got the chance to post anything. The rules may have changed again since then, but in any case it's easier working on this site. Less censorship, more freedom for being mean to readers. 

I hope no one is lactose intolerant...'cause here's some more cheesiness. Not all French people are snots, either. This guy just happens to be a mild, very crummy stereotype loosely based on a kid I went to school with. Who knows _what_ I was thinking when I wrote this.

**********************************

  
  


**~AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?~**

  
  
  
  


**Part 14:**

  
  


She took Arnold by the hand, and pulled him closer to where the stranger was standing. "Arnold," she said, trying to sound lighthearted, "This is a college buddy of mine. Alec LeJerk. We..."

"Alec Le_Jerc_," he corrected. "It is French."

Helga sighed. _Pompous twit._ "Riiiiiight. My mistake. Anyway, Alec, this is my..._boyfriend_, as I mentioned before. Arnold....." She hesitated. What _was_ his last name again?

"...Just 'Arnold' will be fine," said the blond quickly. They shook hands. "Nice to meet you."

"Likewise."

"So....what brings you here?"

Alec held up a notebook and pen. "Visiting friends. Also, extra credit for a cinematic class. I am to study old movies and write about them...I supposed this was as good an opportunity as any when I heard about it." He glanced at Helga, who had made sure she was still holding Arnold's hand. "But I see you two are here for _other _reasons. So sorry to have interfered with your date."

Arnold began to protest: "Oh, but we're _not_...(here, Helga cleared her throat with an '_ahem!_' and nudged him with her elbow)..._ouch_...er....No, that's okay!" 

  
  


"Funny, _cheri_--I do not think I have heard you say anything about Orville before."

"Actually...it's 'Arnold'..."

"Don't call me 'cheri'."

  
  


There was a moment of rather awkward silence during which Helga began to fidget, not knowing quite what to say next. Alec continued to smirk, apparently enjoying this; whether or not he believed her spur-of-the-moment story, the two pretenders could not say. At any rate, one pretender (namely Arnold) was feeling perhaps more guilty and uncomfortable than he had in a while. He still wasn't entirely sure what was going on, and 'playing along' had never been his strongest suit. He knew he was lying to some extent--to a perfect stranger, no less, and with no apparent reason--and that unsettled him. For that matter, so did the fact that she was being awfully affectionate for someone who had smacked him not half an hour earlier because he had gotten too close to her _hair_...

Well, it was _her_ mess. Let _her_ worm them out of it, if she wanted.

  
  


"If I may ask--how did you two meet?" 

Arnold blinked. He answered, feeling slightly better to be saying something--anything. "Oh, we've known each other since we were kids. Er...how about you?"

"Drama classes...and I helped her with French for a while. Surely you have talked about school, _cheri?_" he said, his last question directed towards the blonde who continued to fidget silently. "You cannot have forgotten _everything_ so quickly."

"I told you not to call me '_cheri_'," Helga said firmly. She kept her eyes fixed on the ground. 

"Um, yesss...we did discuss college a little..." began Arnold

"But I'm afraid I never got around to mentioning you," she finished for him. Aargh! That goofy smile again--_why_ for cryin' out loud did they have to look so alike?

"That is understandable. Something tells me you do not like me much...not _anymore_."

This time, even in the growing darkness, Arnold could see her flinch.

  
  


Alec continued, "Well, it has been a de-_light_ running into you like this, Helga...but I can see I am imposing. I ought to get back to my note-taking; that paper will not write itself. Pleasure to have made your acquaintance, Armand."

"_Arnold_."

"Of course. Say...listen!" Alec pulled him aside slightly, out of Helga's hearing. "Keep an eye on this one," he said cheerfully. "She is not so bad, really--but she is crazy enough to pull some...as you say..._harebrained_ stunt when you least expect it! Just stay on your toes."

"I'll keep that in mind," muttered Arnold. This news didn't exactly surprise him.

  
  


The dark-haired man tucked his notebook under an arm and began to walk away. "_Bon nuit_, then. A pleasant evening to you both," he called, with a wave. "Au revoir, _cheri_!"

"_Don't call me that!_" she said through gritted teeth, but he was already gone. 

  
  


Helga shook her head disgustedly. "I'm glad that's over with." She turned to Arnold... Uh oh--he didn't appear too thrilled. Nor did he seem as if he was in a very forgiving mood. He crossed his arms.

  
  


"_Well?..._"


	15. Quinze:

**Atellix:** Hey, it's great to hear from another fan of the Rat-Pack! The original "Ocean's Eleven" is actually the first time I ever heard the song, and I really liked it. That part where Martin's sitting at the piano and belting it out always cracks me up for some weird reason. I haven't seen the remake of the movie yet, although I hear it's pretty good, but you can't beat the oldies. Fun stuff. Anyway, glad you recognized the title and liked the whole song bit. And thanks for the humongous trivia-packed review. (I'm not too good when it comes to reviewing, either. Very inconsiderate of me, but ah well.)

**beady:** _Aaugh!_ Anything but a _platypus!_ You be nice. I've got a pickled herring (that's right, the platypus' natural enemy) around here someplace and I'm not afraid to use it.

For being such good, patient readers, here's a big, fat argument.

*****************************

  
  
  
  


**~AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?~**

  
  
  
  


**Part 15:**

  
  


"Welllll...how's...the movie?" she tried.

"I wouldn't know. I've been a little distracted."

Helga shifted uneasily from one foot to the other. "I must have been caught up in the heat of the moment."

"What moment? No excuses--you lied for some reason and you pulled me into it--I want to know why. Explain what just happened here."

"Could I get back to you on that?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you're being stubborn and childish, Arn_oldo_."

"_I'm_ being stubborn and childish? Do you even listen to yourself when you talk, or do the words just fall out of your mouth by themselves?!"

"It's no big deal. Really."

"Humor me."

  
  


So much for tiptoing around the subject. Maybe if she was straightforward, it wouldn't be so bad. Like ripping off a band-aid in one yank instead of slowly peeling it away.

Although, there's a problem with ripping off a band-aid. It usually stings pretty badly for a while.

  
  


"Fine!" She took a deep breath and launched into an explanation that quickly became a ramble. "Alec and I met in college, like I said. We had a lot of the same interests and had the same sense of humor, and got along fairly well. I'd give him acting tips, and sometimes he'd help me with French, and we'd tease each other about stuff all the time. Soon we got to be pretty good friends and..I started to like him. As a matter of fact, I began to think I was in _love_ with him. But I was always too scared to say anything. My whole life has been like that--I'm Helga Pataki, and Patakis don't share their feelings. Noooo--they're supposed to bottle them up, and jeer and scowl and pretend everything is hunky-dory-_fine_. 'I don't need anyone because I'm happy this way.' That's my motto. That's how it is; the world accepts me as long as I'm an iceberg. That's what was always expected of me. _And I HATE it._ I've hated every _second_ of it, Arnold, and I'm so SICK of pretending---and that's why I made the mistake of finally telling him exactly how I felt. That's it in a nutshell. Satisfied?"

"Not really. You still haven't explained what you did five minutes ago." The exasperated, accusative expression hadn't left his face. "Look, I'm sorry if you had a lousy childhood. I know your family wasn't always the greatest in the world..."

"Hmph..._there's_ an understatement."

"...but a _lot_ of people have lousy childhoods and difficult families, and they don't let those things direct their entire outlook on life. So you took a chance on someone and it didn't work out so well. That happens every day. It's not the end of the world."

She clenched her hands involuntarily. "He _laughed_ at me! Don't you get it? They _all_ laughed at me, because they found out I wasn't the cold-hearted, rational, invulnerable person they thought I was, the person they'd learned to respect. The person _I'd_ learned to respect. Destroyed, just like that. What's more, they won't let me forget it--him especially. Some snide joker always has to pop in with his two cents' worth. I let myself slip on a bunch of weak, stupid, _worthless_ emotions--and I still haven't gotten over that."

"Love isn't a weakness," said Arnold stiffly. "Especially compared to something as petty and superficial as a _reputation_. You don't earn respect by acting aloof and inhuman; people secretly feel sorry for you, and sometimes they'll even _shun_ you. Why would you act that way? Haven't you learned that kind of behavior will eventually leave you with nothing but loneliness? It hurts to be rejected and humiliated--believe me, I _know_. I know all about it. But those things only hurt you a lot worse if you refuse to move on with your life." 

"What are you--a psychiatrist?! Don't lecture me on the benefits of 'letting go' and 'forgive and forget'. That's all you had to say ten years ago, and I'd rather not hear it again, thank you very much."

"Apparently you haven't changed, either. What are you hiding? It doesn't make sense."

"Haven't you ever wanted desperately to take something back? When you would do whatever you possibly could if it meant saving face? Hasn't there been a time when you would give anything --ANYTHING-- to hold on to what little respect and pride you had left, no matter how silly your reasoning was?"

"You can't possibly have much room for reasoning when your every single action is fueled by whatever raw emotion you're feeling at the time! You're _smart_, Helga, but you never think things through before jumping into them. You'd rather get what you want _now_ than stop to consider how you--how_ everybody--_might be affected in the long run."

"I hate being laughed at," she said firmly. "More than anything else, I hate being laughed at, no matter who does the laughing or why. Nothing I do has ever been good enough for anybody." Her voice softened slightly as a somewhat pained look crept into her eyes. "You don't understand." 

"You're right, I don't. I wish I did, but no one's going to know how you feel unless you tell them. Why did you lie?" he asked again.

A heavy sigh escaped. "I guess I wanted to make him jealous or something. I don't feel the same way about him anymore --as a matter of fact, I can barely stand him sometimes-- but he won't stop taunting me. It really irks me when I get one-upped, you know that. I--I just hoped it would finally seep into his thick skull that I'm _through_ with him! Over. Done. Finito. Kaput! The fat lady has sung!! Good Night, Gracie!!!"

"So..." began Arnold carefully," this had absolutely _nothing_ whatsoever to do with me?"

"No. And for the last time, I'm really sorry I dragged you into it." She paused. If it hadn't been dark outside, the faint blush on her face might have been noticeable. As it was, they were equally grateful for the shadowy moonlight. "And--I'm sorry I...er...for, um....giving you a kiss," she said, averting her eyes.

  
  


There she was. The quintessential Helga. Rant and rave and make you feel like a fool, then get away with a heartfelt apology. And he, the ever-forgiving pacifist, would sigh and feel sorry for her, as he always had. Perhaps he should drop the subject there and let things be simpatico again.......

.......No. Things were going to be different this time. If she would only talk--_really_ talk about whatever was bothering her, wouldn't it be better for both of them? There were questions that had gone unanswered for too long. Arnold never allowed himself to be truly irritated or angry at anything. Guilt always followed. After all, he was supposed to be the rational, understanding one. The diplomat. 

Yet, he wanted to be angry now--anger that wasn't followed by remorse. It wasn't healthy to smother emotions, whether repressing them for the sake of peace or concealing them beneath a layer of hubris and false bravado. Was it so unthinkable that he, like any normal person, should ever be irate? 

It was high time to drag a couple of issues to the surface, despite whatever walls she was determined to raise around herself.

  
  


"You're lying again," he said. 

  
  



	16. Seize:

**Atellix:** That's what's so great about old movies: the banter, gags, and random dry humor. No one puts good banter in their movies anymore.Anyway...

*********************************

  
  
  
  


**~AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?~**

  
  
  
  


**Part 16:**

  
  


"What?" She had started back toward the movie crowd to indicate that the conversation was over and the subject had become a moot point, but now she stopped and turned to him, incredulous. "What do you mean?"

"You're actually saying none of this had to do with me?"

She scoffed. "Did I stutter?"

"No. But you forgot something." Arnold walked closer to her. Very close. She could hear him breathing--quick, tense breaths--as he caught her eyes and stared directly into them. There was a strange, almost threatening seriousness about it. She wanted to back away, but somehow that didn't seem very feasible. Besides, backing away would be like backing out....and she was _not_ afraid of him. She held her ground, putting her hands on her hips and a defiant expression on her face.

"And what might that be?" _Criminy_, hadn't he ever heard of allowing three feet of personal space? He wasn't what you would call an intimidating person, yet there was a quiet, scary sort of uncomfortableness to this. 

"I think this has a lot more to do with me than you want to admit," he said in a low voice. "If you once felt a strong attachment to that guy, it couldn't have been just because of his _winning personality_. You're much more careful with your deepest emotions than that. There's some other reason." 

"Ohhhhhh..." she said, catching on. "So you think _you_ are the reason, you pushy, conceited excuse of a..."

"I may be a little dense, but I'm not stupid," he replied. "Do you expect me to believe this is all a big coincidence, and you just _happened _to tear yourself apart over someone who just _happened_ to look like _me_?"

"He does not! His hair is an entirely different color."

Arnold threw up his hands in exasperation. "Oh, give me a BREAK! We could be twins!! Helga--you've been honestly yourself all evening...up until now. All of a sudden, you've decided you have to shut everything out. I don't care about your reputation, I don't care about our past, and I sure don't care about your selfish pride. For once in your life, _just tell the TRUTH!!_"

She whirled on him then, a chilling gleam in her eyes, her words dropping with all the warmth and tenderness of sharp icicles. 

"Really? The truth? Okay, Football-head...if that's what you _want_. The truth is: once upon a time there was a little girl who loved you more than anything, and when she finally found the courage to confess it, you _didn't..believe..her._ Every minute of every day for six stinkin' years those affections ate away at me--and you didn't even believe they _existed_. You couldn't believe for a second that someone like ME was capable of feeling something like THAT. Isn't that worse than being laughed at? The truth is: you were always the compassionate one, the philanthropic, selfless little humanitarian so caught up in helping everybody solve their problems--everybody but me. You couldn't solve _my_ problems, could you? Ever wonder why? Maybe what you never realised is that you couldn't _fix_ my problems, because you WERE my problem. You couldn't leave me alone and ignore me like everyone else. Nope, you had to come along and be so...so _Arnold_. I was completely obsessed and pathetic for a long time; I know that now. You can't begin to imagine some of the crazy things I did because of you!" 

"Helga, I didn't..." 

"Don't interrupt! You wanted the truth; now you're gonna get it. I was miserable before you happened, before you became my reason for breathing each day. You--walking around in an idealistic daze, spouting dreams and hope. In some twisted little way, you _were_ my hope. And then all of a sudden... everything changes. Your parents are alive. It's a miracle! You aren't an orphan anymore, and every day is a celebration. _Yippee_. Nobody was happier for you than I was, Arnold. _Nobody_, and I mean that with all my heart. I really do. But the thing is: you moved away to start a wonderful, new life full of sunshine and rainbows--and meanwhile, I had to force myself to forget how I felt about you. To forget the first thing I ever liked about myself!"

  
  


Arnold couldn't think of anything constructive to say. (He _did_ wonder momentarily if it were possible for a person to shoot little red laser beams out of their eyes and fry somebody to a crisp when they were mad. It certainly appeared as if she were about to. The police report would look odd: _Man vanishes from park, mysterious pile of ashes found in shoes. Possibly work of spontaneous combustion or violent woman._) He wasn't quite so angry anymore--in some peculiar way he was actually beginning to feel better. Even _relieved_.

  
  


"Helga..."

"Stop _staring_ at me like that! I don't need your pity...in fact, the _truth_ is: I don't blame you. You never asked for any of this, and it isn't your fault. Yes--forgetting you was one of the hardest things I ever had to do. But it was also one of the best. It made me stronger. So--thanks. Thanks for your _help_." She spat the last word out bitterly and continued. "Oh, and _furthermore_...I don't see how my life was ever any of your business to begin with! Hate to break it to ya'...but you are _not_ the center of my universe. Maybe it IS a coincidence that I've loved two football-headed morons in my lifetime! Stranger things have happened!! MAYBE I'll fall in love with a hundred more before I die!! And MAYBE...I'll end up _hating_ them all--because _NONE of them will be **YOU!!!**_"

  
  


She caught herself immediately, a complete change washing over her demeanor. Suddenly she seemed so empty and exhausted and worn-out. And scared. As if she had been burdened her whole life.

A wounded soul who couldn't bear it anymore.

  
  


Helga sighed. "I'm sorry, Arnold," she said quietly. "I've been a thorn in your side long enough." She smiled weakly and rested a hand on his arm as she went past, turning to leave. "I tried, but I guess I never forgot you after all."

And with that, she walked away from him one last time. No tears. No more harsh words.

  
  


Just goodbye.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**************************

A/N: Hmmmm...What would you do if I told you that this is the end? You'd throttle me, that's what. Since I don't particularly enjoy being throttled, I'll tell you there's one more chapter. Check back in a couple of months or so.

  
  


Kidding. Just kidding. The ending should be out some time next week.


	17. Dixsept:

A/N: Well finally, here it is guys. The end of my very first fanfic attempt. Thanks for being so faithful and patient (and pernickety, and naggy) about reading and reviewing. (50+ reviews...yahoo! I gotta admit, I'm still surprised and happy about that.) I hope you've enjoyed this story, and I _really _hope it doesn't turn out quite the way you had expected. That wouldn't be any fun. Yet more lyrics written in here, taken from "Meant to Be" by the Squirrel Nut Zippers---a talented if somewhat obscure jazz/swing band. It's a good song; sorta slow with a 'smooth' jazzy beat, for lack of a better description. (Well...the girl who sings it sounds a little like Billie Holliday, if that means anything.) Anyway, I thought the lyrics fit in. Maybe you'll like the result.

Okay, enough sentiment. Now it's your turn. Go write something and impress me! (After you've finished reading this, of course.)

************************************

  
  


**~AIN'T THAT A KICK IN THE HEAD?~**

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Part 17:**

  
  


"Helga--wait."

  
  


She hesitated briefly, fought the urge to turn, and chose to keep going...melting away into the darkness. Then from behind came the muffled sound of hurriedly following footsteps on the path. Her own pace quickened, but to no avail; he was soon catching up and walking beside her.

  
  


"Look at me."

_Keep walking. Don't stop..._

"Will you look at me? It's really hard to talk to someone who won't even acknowledge your presence."

_Ignore him...ignore him...ignorehim..ignorehimignorehi....._

  
  


Arnold stepped in front of her, forcing her to a halt. She blinked, frowned, unceremoniously pushed him aside and went on her way without a word. Narrowing his eyes, he let out frustrated sigh and caught up with her again.

  
  


"I don't want to chase after you, but I'm not going to let you have the final say, either. I'm going to talk all night if that's what it takes for you to start listening."

No response.

"Keep ignoring me, and I'll sing 'Henry the Eighth'. And I know enough Simon and Garfunkel songs to be very annoying..." he warned. 

No response.

"......If it helps," he slowly began after a moment, "I'm _glad_ you told me. I had no idea you'd put yourself through so much...torment."

Still no response.

"That's a lot of aggravation to keep pent up for so long. ...I wish you had said something sooner."

Although her gaze stayed fixed ahead, she muttered a reply at last. "Well, _I_ wish I hadn't made a big fool of myself tonight, and _I_ wish to be left alone now."

"Helga, don't run away like this."

"I'm not running. I'm walking," she said in a flat tone.

"Funny girl. I mean it; don't run from me." He took her by the arm to slow her down. "That won't solve anything." 

"Let go of me, or you'll regret it," she threatened, but there was little conviction in her words.

"You've been running away most of your life.....haven't you?"

"What's it to you if I have?"

"A lot," he answered. "Do you even know what you're running from, anymore?" 

"Does it matter?"

"To me, it does. You've picked a horrible note to end things on. "

"Why should you care?"

"I don't want you to be unhappy. I don't want to say goodbye like this, either. It isn't right--or fair."

  
  


Helga almost laughed in spite of herself. How very typical of him. "Nobody ever promised it would be." A few seconds later she stopped on her own, shaking her head in disbelief. "All right. All right--_fine_, Arnold," she said with a flippant wave of the arm. "I'm listening. So, what _do_ you want?"

"I...I don't know. I don't know what else to say,"

"Then don't say anything."

  
  


What seemed like an hour of silence passed as they fell into stride again, walking down the old path for the second time that evening. The moon shone brightly above, illuminating their slow journey out of the park. Neither of them paid it much attention, though, concentrating instead on their feet shuffling dejectedly through the gravel. Finally, Arnold cleared his throat and spoke.

  
  


"I never gave up on you, you know. I still don't understand you, but I haven't given up, either."

"You're persistent. It's one of your more irritating qualities."

"Could I ask you something?"

"Sure---what the hey. There must be _some_ intimately guarded secret of mine that I haven't revealed yet." 

"Why did you get angry when he called you 'cheri'?" he asked cautiously. "What does it mean?"

_He IS dense! What kind of question is that after...well, everything?_ she thought. But she shrugged. "It's a term of endearment--sort of like calling someone 'Honey', or 'Sweetheart', or 'Pookie'. He was teasing me. I may lie about everything else, and maybe I'm a hypocrite for saying this, but I do think people shouldn't say such things unless they truly mean them. Shows of affection should be genuine. Otherwise, they're pointless, and sometimes cruel."

"I agree," said Arnold. He paused. "And I _did_ believe you."

"Huh?"

"When we were kids. When you said you loved me, I... believed you. It's just that, well...we were nine. I didn't know how to handle it at the time, and I guess I tried to push it aside so it would be a little less...um...overwhelming. I'm sorry if I hurt you. I'm even sorrier it took this long for us to explain things to one another." 

"Same here," Helga said glumly.

  
  


They continued on in an uneasy quiet for another few minutes, until at last she could bring herself to look him in the face.

"I knew how I felt then. But we're not nine anymore, Arnold. And I honestly don't know how I feel about you _now_."

  
  


"Same here."

  
  


Blue eyes met green eyes again, and he grinned in his lopsided way. 

  
  


"It isn't too late to find out," he said. "Is the old _Slausen's_ still around? If you want, I'll treat you to an ice cream or something. Maybe we could...talk a while longer?"

She returned the smile. 

"Why not?"

  
  
  
  
  
  


From some distant place in the park, music was playing. Whether it was someone singing, or only a radio, or merely something from a dream, no one could tell. But it floated over the trees, drifting through the quiet night--a simple, long-forgotten little song that rose into the sky.

  
  


_All _

_the _

_time,_

  
  


_I'm finding ways _

_to _

_make _

_things _

_fall _

_in _

_line._

  
  


_I know_

  
  


_how tricky _

  
  


_things _

_can _

_be._

  
  


_But I really do believe that..._

  
  


_You _

_are _

_mine,_

  
  


_and all the stars _

_are _

_there _

_before _

_us._

  
  


_Listen here--_

  
  


_some things _

  
  


_are _

_meant _

_to _

_be..._

  
  
  
  
  
  


"Oh, by the way..." said Arnold innocently as they walked along side by side, "I'm getting tired of this habit of yours--the one where you just start kissing me whenever you feel like it? _Next_ time you want to kiss me, I'd appreciate a little warning first. We could write up an agreement..."

  
  
  
  
  
  


_Try _

_to _

_take _

_it _

_slow._

  
  


_Try _

_to _

_lose _

_control._

  
  


_--But I'll tell you what the trick is:_

  
  


_What you get _

_is _

_what you have _

_to _

_give _

_away._

  
  


_When I learned,_

  
  


_I _

_found _

_my _

_eyes _

_were _

_opened..._

  
  
  
  
  
  


Her jaw dropped. "You arrogant _louse!!!_"

"...something like: 'I will only kiss Arnold on days ending with 'Y' between five and six p.m.....'"

"What makes you think there's even gonna _BE_ a 'next time'--huh, _Football-head_? Tease me again, and I will _clobber_ you two weeks from Sunday!"

"Ah...but Sunday ends with a 'Y', so you'll be busy then."

"Don't you dare get me started..."

  
  
  
  
  
  


_Long _

_ago,_

  
  


_I had a dream _

_that _

_quickly _

_faded._

  
  


_Goes _

_to _

_show_

  
  


_how tricky _

  
  


_dreams _

_can _

_be._

  
  


_But wouldn't you agree that..._

  
  
  
  
  
  


That peculiar feeling crossed over him again. But this time, it wasn't so unidentifiable, and this time he didn't brush it aside.

  
  


_So._

_'Football-head' and 'cheri' mean the same thing._

  
  
  
  
  
  


_Those _

_who _

_know_

  
  


_will whisper _

_when _

_they _

_see _

_us _

_walking,_

  
  


_"There's a love_

  
  


_that's _

_always _

_meant _

_to _

_be..."_

  
  
  
  
  
  


He laughed.

  
  


"Whatever you say, Helga. Whatever..you..say."

  
  
  
  
  
  


**_~THE END~_**

**_--(or maybe it's the beginning?)--_**

  
  



End file.
